


Watching

by Kaurudim



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5472860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaurudim/pseuds/Kaurudim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iori grew up watching others, but never felt he had ever been watched in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching

**Author's Note:**

> There is the ABSOLUTE lightest of implied ioriku here, but that's if you're squinting really hard.
> 
> Riku is my bias but I think people really don't pay nearly enough attention to Iori....which happens to be what this fic is about.

Iori’s late-adolescence--a time that for most meant socializing and friends and dating--was spent honing his skills of observation.  His blunt speech and mannerisms while offering advice to others, once seen as amusing in childhood and curious in his early teenage years, grew to be loathed and sometimes outright condemned as he neared entrance into high school.  Iori had been told over and over that his perfection in all he did was to be congratulated, but the way he went about it was his greatest flaw.

The way Mitsuki reacted to his earnest attempts at help didn’t do much to persuade Iori that this wasn’t actually the case. 

And so, upon entering a prestigious academic high school, he stood back.

He watched.

Initially, he thought of it as a way to learn.  Maybe he could try to mold (break) his blunt ways, fix (erase) his harsh words, and enjoy the last bit of his childhood.

But the more he watched and tried to figure out the people in front of him, the more he realized nobody had ever tried to do the same in return.  Even Mitsuki, who had taken some time after a falling out to come to the conclusion himself.

And if Nii-san took that much time, then how long would it take for everyone else?  Was there a reason to try and reach out when their responses were always the same?

“Loosen up, Izumi.  We’re only first years.”

“Hey hey, can I borrow your notes?  You always get good grades.”

“Izumi-kun, your performance at the school festival was amazing!”

“Jeez, you don’t have to be so harsh.  Just because you’re at the top of the class--”

“Izumi-san, please accept this! I’ve liked you since I first saw you...you’re so cool!”

Grades, grades, grades, grades. Athletic meet performances and outward appearance.  Iori took pride in these things, and he would admit so readily.  But by his own observations he could tell that one classmate was stressed about living up to his older sister’s academic performance; another had issues keeping up in class lectures and relied on written instructions; and that yet another only acted out in class because they were bored of the lessons and wanted more.

He wouldn’t say he was friends with them, but in some ways he felt like he knew them.

So why didn’t anyone ever bother to return the favor?  It was embarrassing (and, if he was really honest with himself, a little scary) to think that anyone but Mitsuki could find out about his weakness for cats or his talent at baking sweets or his desire to push others to do and be their best.  But that didn’t mean the desire for a relationship where those secrets could be shared had disappeared completely.  Maybe it just wasn’t meant for him...maybe he was simply as bad as they (Nii-san…) believed he was.

By the time Iori finally transferred out and prepared to move into the dorm, he had grown content with simply watching. Whatever it was that was gnawing in the center of his chest as he observed his classmates was easy to push back now.

 

* * *

Iori’s time with IDOLiSH7 was spent very similarly.  He watched the (failure of) communication between Sougo and Tamaki with no small amount of frustration, but knew better than to get involved every single time it happened.  He began to appreciate the command of Japanese Nagi did hold upon noticing the faint furrowing of his brows every time he began to speak, obviously (to Iori, anyway) nervous about speaking in a foreign language.  Yamato’s own sharp eyes would constantly scan the group when they were together, likely taking an inventory of their conditions; sometimes their eyes would meet and Yamato would give a knowing wink. He would watch with a strange combination of joy and jealousy as Mitsuki doted on the younger members of the group.  He seemed to be especially fond of Riku, whose smiles and giggles were an antithesis to Iori’s own temperament.

Riku himself seemed to draw a great deal of Iori’s attention.  Some of it was born of worry--Iori very quickly learned to gauge Riku’s breathing and physical stamina and tended to be the first to follow up if things went south during a performance--but there was also something else that drew not just his eyes but his entire being towards Riku.

Sometimes it was during practice--

“Ah...wait, Iori, are you actually ticklish!?”

\--or on the way home from a job--

“Did you see the stage manager’s cat?”

\--or during a day relaxing at home--

“Iori, I went to the convenience store to get a snack, and they had these stickers…”

\--or especially before a performance--

“Harsh as always!  But don’t worry, I’ll give it my all too!”

For years, Iori believed that he was an awful person.  That his intentions must have been wrong, and his actions even worse.  But he pushed through it anyway.  Because he couldn’t push down a desire to understand and therefore help others.  Because he wouldn’t give up on helping Mitsuki.  When Mitsuki himself seemed to finally understand this, it helped him a little; but that no one else would only clouded his resolve.

And yet, here was Riku.  Before Iori realized it, they had a few secrets shared between them--between all seven of them--and Iori had the feeling Riku had been watching him just as often as he had watched everyone else.

Despite knowing (hoping) that this was indeed the case, it remained difficult for Iori to acknowledge how happy it had made him. The desire for a relationship like this continued to stir within him, but he hadn’t quite learned how to deal with it yet.  The gnawing grew stronger and stronger. And as Riku (as all of them, Iori soon saw) began to look at the person that Iori once believed himself to be years ago, before he entered high school, the more Iori thought he could throw away the wall he had built up.  He could finally give into the incessant gnawing and properly reach out in return.

It’d take some time.  But as long as Riku and the others were watching (taking care of) him, he knew he could do it perfectly.


End file.
